THE EOMANCE OF NATURAL HISTORY. 



ings of flame were still visible upon the distant 

 line of the horizon, showing there like the fitful 

 starts of the Aurora Borealis. 



"The sea retained its luminosity for about three 

 hours, at the expiration of half that period be- 

 ginning to fade; and, excepting occasional faint 

 illuminations, consequent upon the rapid darting 

 of fish under water, the phenomenon at last 

 wholly disappeared. 



"Heretofore, I had beheld several exhibitions of 

 marine phosphorescence, both in the Atlantic and 

 Pacific; but nothing in comparison with what 

 was seen that night. In the Atlantic, there is 

 very seldom any portion of the ocean luminous, 

 except the crests of the waves, and these mostly 

 appear so during wet murky weather. Whereas, 

 in the Pacific, all instances of the sort previously 

 coming under my notice, had been marked by 

 patches of greenish light, unattended with any 

 pallidness of the sea. Save twice on the coast of 

 Peru, when I was summoned from my hammock 

 by the alarming cry of 'All hands ahoy! tack 

 ship!' and rushing on deck, beheld the sea white 

 as a shroud; for which reason it was feared we 

 were on soundings."* 



This idea of unearthliness is a great element in 

 the Romance of Natural History. Our matter-of- 

 fact age despises and scouts it as absurd, and 

 those who are conscious of such impressions ac- 

 knowledge that they are unreal, yet feel them 

 none the less. The imaginative Greeks peopled 

 every wild glen, every lonely shore, every obscure 

 cavern, every solemn grove, with the spiritual, 

 only rarely and fitfully visible or audible. So it 

 has been with all peoples, especially in that semi- 

 civilised stage which is so favourable to poetic 

 * Melville's "Mardi," vol. i. p. 187. 

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